A Day In The Life of the aPa
by Doug Troy
Summary: In the hours before King Of The Ring, everyone is getting ready for battle... except for these two.


A Day In The Life of the Acolytes Protection Agency  
A script by Doug Troy aka Doug Whitman.  
  
All characters used within are the property of Titan Sports   
and their respective owners.  
  
Shameless plug time: Go to Mr. Pink Productions (http://mrpinkproductions.8m.com) for more wrestling commentary and stories.  
  
Warning! This is the transcript of edited footage taken by   
a Fleet Center security camera. The language has not been   
edited, and can be extreme at times. All wrestlers in the   
fic are in kayfabe (in character), so they will be acting   
like they do on normal TV, only more uncensored. Enjoy.  
  
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^  
  
  
Text: "5:00 pm"  
"2 hours until King Of The Ring"  
  
Setting: OUTSIDE DX dressing room  
(The feed is black and white, as if from a security camera.   
Faarooq and Bradshaw are standing in front of a door marked   
Degeneration X. They knock, and after a minute, Triple H   
opens the door. Road Dogg, X-Pac and Stephanie McMahon can   
be seen in the room as well.)  
  
Triple H: "WHAT... oh, it's you guys."  
  
Bradshaw: "You called about wanting protection?"  
  
Triple H: "Yeah, I did. Here's what I need-uh. I need you   
guys to guard this door until King Of The Ring starts, okay-  
uh?"  
  
Faarooq: "Yeah, sounds okay."  
  
Triple H: "If anyone wants in, you clear them with me   
first, got it?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Yeah..."  
  
Triple H: "Except for Vince and Shane. Those two have   
fucked everything up for me so far, I will not let them fuck   
this up. Got it?"  
  
Faarooq: "Yep..."  
  
(Triple H stares for a few seconds at the two brawlers)  
  
Triple H: "Good. There's two hours until the show starts.   
After that, you can go do whatever. Keep it quiet out here,   
I need to think."  
  
(Triple H turns to go back into his dressing room)  
  
Bradshaw: "Wait."  
  
(Triple H turns toward Bradshaw.)  
  
Triple H: "What?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Mind letting us borrow your card table?"  
  
Triple H: *sighs * "Fine."  
  
Bradshaw: "Cool."  
  
(Bradshaw goes into the dressing room.)  
  
Triple H (to Faarooq): "What the fuck do you guys need a   
card table for?"  
  
Faarooq: "Why else do you think, honkey? If we can't play   
cards, we get bored. If we get bored, we usually go to a   
bar, and that means leaving yo' ass unguarded, and you don't   
want that to happen, do you?"  
  
Triple H (nervously): "No."  
  
(Bradshaw walks back out of the dressing room, table in   
hand)  
  
Bradshaw: "Check this table out, Faarooq! Solid oak! Why   
isn't the table in our office ever this nice?"  
  
(Bradshaw sets the table up)  
  
Triple H: "Anything else?"  
  
Faarooq: "Nope, we're fine."  
  
Triple H: "Alright."  
  
(Triple H walks back into his dressing room. Bradshaw and   
Faarooq go to sit down, but notice something...)  
  
Bradshaw: "Man, I forgot the damn chairs!"  
  
Faarooq: "Guess what? You can go get them. And the beer,   
and the cigars."  
  
Bradshaw: "Aw, c'mon. I got the damn table!"  
  
Faarooq: "Yeah, well I got the cards."  
  
(Faarooq pulls a deck of cards from his shirt. Bradshaw   
swears and runs offscreen. Faarooq starts shuffling the   
cards as Pat Patterson, Hardcore Title slung over his   
shoulder, walks up to the door.)  
  
Faarooq: "Hey, hey hey, hold on. You can't go in there!"  
  
Patterson: "Why not?"  
  
Faarooq: "You have to ask? Give the man his privacy!"  
  
Patterson: "But my dress is in there!"  
  
Faarooq: ".........Dress? I'm not gonna ask..."  
  
Patterson: "For my match tonight!"  
  
Faarooq: "Right, sure."  
  
(Faarooq knocks on the door.)  
  
Faarooq: "Hey Jean-Paul!"  
  
Triple H (from behind door): "Don't EVER fucking call me   
that again!"  
  
Faarooq: "Yeah, whatever. Patterson wants his (snicker)   
dress, and he says that you have it in there."  
  
(After a moment, Triple H opens the door with a box in his   
hands. He's trying not to laugh as he hands Patterson the   
box.)  
  
Triple H: "Here you go, Pat. Heh, good luck. We'll need   
it."  
  
(Triple H shuts the door.)  
  
Patterson: "We'll need it? *I* need the luck."  
  
Faarooq: "What *I* need is to go through life without   
seeing your old ass in a damn dress. Now get outta here!"  
  
(Patterson walks away. Faarooq walks back to the table,   
muttering something about 'Bra and panties' and shaking in   
fear. Suddenly, a 12-pack of Budweiser and a box of cigars   
roll by on an office chair. Faarooq raises an eyebrow at   
that, then raises the other one as Bradshaw zooms by on   
another chair.)  
  
Faarooq: "Having fun?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Hell yeah. Check out the whip-ass chairs I got   
from the arena office. They're cushioned and they've got   
wheels!"  
  
(Bradshaw wheels up to the table, pulling the chair with the   
Bud and cigars with him. Faarooq grabs the Bud and puts it   
on the ground under the table and puts the box of cigars on   
the table. Bradshaw grabs a cigar from the box and lights   
it as Faarooq does the same. Faarooq opens the 12 pack up   
and has a horrifying realization.)  
  
Faarooq: "Aw, dammit! The beer's warm!"  
  
Bradshaw: "Well, shit. I guess that that's the breaks.   
We'll just have to drink it warm."  
  
Faarooq: "Look, I don't give a shit about what the French   
do, but I drink my beer cold. Warm beer, that just ain't   
right!"  
  
Bradshaw: "Good point."  
  
(Bradshaw gets up and knocks on HHH's dressing room door.   
HHH answers the door, pissed off.)  
  
Triple H: "WHAT?! What is it now?!"  
  
Bradshaw: "Hey, don't cop an attitude with me, boy. I just   
wanna know if we can borrow your mini-fridge."  
  
Triple H: "NO!"  
  
(Triple H slams the door shut. Bradshaw shrugs his   
shoulders and sits down.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Rude asshole."  
  
Faarooq: "Damn straight. I can deal with warm beer if you   
can."  
  
Bradshaw: "Watch me and learn, son."  
  
(Bradshaw grabs a Bud, pops the top, and chugs it down. His   
eyes bulge suddenly, and he spews the beer out of his   
mouth.)  
  
Faarooq: "Damn, man. You got that warm shit all over the   
table."  
  
Bradshaw: "Aw, Goddammit! That warm beer tastes like   
shit!"  
  
Faarooq: "Told ya. Wanna deal?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Nah, you deal."  
  
Faarooq: "Alright, the game is the same as it everytime:   
Standard Five Card Poker."  
  
Bradshaw: "You sound like a damn Las Vegas dealer."  
  
Faarooq: "So?"  
  
(Faarooq passes the cards around as the screen fades to   
black.)  
  
Text: "5:30 pm"  
"1 hour, 30 minutes to King Of The Ring"  
  
(Fade in to...)  
  
Setting: OUTSIDE DX dressing room  
(Faarooq and Bradshaw are busy with a hand of poker when   
Gerald Brisco runs up to them, a box in his hand)  
  
Brisco: "Hey, guys."  
  
Faarooq: "Hey."  
  
Bradshaw: "Hey. How goes the body shop?"  
  
Faarooq: "Yeah, does Patterson still do rear-end work down   
there?"  
  
Brisco: "It's going fine, guys, but I need to know if   
you've seen Mr. MacMan around here lately."  
  
Bradshaw: "What, you need him to zip up your dress?"  
  
Brisco: "Very funny, Bradshaw. Have you seen him?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Nope."  
  
Patterson (offscreen): "Hey guys!"  
  
(Patterson runs into the frame, clad in an outfit that makes   
him bear an eerie resemblance to the Fabulous Moolah.   
Bradshaw takes one look and bursts into laughter while   
Faarooq adverts his eyes from the grotesque sight.)  
  
Brisco: "Jesus Christ, Pat! You know we still have another   
three hours before our match!"  
  
Patterson: "So? Have any of you guys seen Crash Holly?"  
  
Faarooq: "No. Now leave, you dirty old bastard."  
  
Brisco: "Why, Pat?"  
  
Patterson: "That son of a bitch attacked me and pinned me   
for the Hardcore Title!"  
  
Brisco: "What? Good. That means no match tonight."  
  
(Brisco walks offscreen)  
  
Patterson: "Brisco! Come back here!"  
  
Bradshaw: "Look at him, Faarooq."  
  
Faarooq: "Hell no."  
  
Bradshaw: "He's wearing pantyhose, man."  
  
Faarooq: "What?"  
  
(Faarooq takes a quick peek at Patterson, then covers his   
eyes again.)  
  
Faarooq: "Aw, damn. That just ain't right."  
  
(Patterson shrugs his shoulders and walks off.)  
  
Bradshaw: "He's gone, Faarooq."  
  
Faarooq: "He better be, or I'm gonna have to kick his ass."  
  
(Faarooq uncovers his eyes.)  
  
Faarooq: "Man, I'm gonna be havin' nightmares about that   
now."  
  
Bradshaw: "The thing I can't figure out is when he learned   
how to walk in high-heels."  
  
Faarooq: "Sheeeeeit. Don't even get me thinkin' about   
that."  
  
(The Acolytes go back to their poker game as the scene fades   
to black.)  
  
Text: "5:45 pm"  
"1 hour, 15 minutes to King of The Ring"  
  
Setting: OUTSIDE DX dressing room  
(Faarooq and Bradshaw are busy with another hand of poker   
when suddenly Crash Holly runs in, panting heavily, Hardcore   
Title in hand.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, small fry.   
What's the rush? Where'd you get the belt?"  
  
Crash: "Guys, you gotta help me! I beat up Patterson and   
got my belt back, but the Mean Street Posse saw me do it,   
and now I know they're coming after me. You just gotta help   
me!"  
  
Faarooq: "Wait, what about that 'breach of contract'   
bullshit you were peddling earlier?"  
  
Crash: "Look, I'm sorry about that, but please! You gotta   
help me!"  
  
Bradshaw: "That depends, Elroy. You got your pot full of   
gold?"  
  
Crash: "What?"  
  
Faarooq: "Your money, Lucky the Leprechaun. Do you got   
money?"  
  
Crash: "Yeah! Here..."  
  
(Crash throws wad of money on the table)  
  
Bradshaw: "Good midget. Now have a seat."  
  
(Crash looks miffed after the midget comment, but he sits   
down. He looks offscreen, and his eyes widen)  
  
Crash: "Oh shit! I hear them coming!"  
  
Bradshaw: "Then hide, Max Mini."  
  
Crash: "Wha?"  
  
(Without another word, Bradshaw grabs Crash, opens the DX   
dressing room door, and flings Crash in.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Watch Munchkin boy for a sec!"  
  
(Bradshaw shuts the door as the Mean Street Posse (Joey Abs,   
Rodney, and Pete Gas) enter the frame.)  
  
Joey Abs: "Hey, guys. Have you seen a little fella run   
through here carrying a Hardcore Title belt?"  
  
Faarooq: "Nope, we haven't."  
  
Joey Abs: "You sure?"  
  
(Faarooq stands up quickly, a sneer on his face.)  
  
Faarooq: "Are you calling me a liar, punk?"  
  
Joey Abs: "No sir. We'll leave now."  
  
(The Posse start walking away slowly, too slowly for   
Faarooq's taste. He steps toward the Posse, and the Posse   
go from walking to scrambling for the nearest corner)  
  
Faarooq: "Damn!"  
  
(Bradshaw opens the DX dressing room door wide enough for   
the camera to see Road Dogg putting on a referee shirt. X-  
Pac kicks Crash Holly in the head and goes for the cover as   
Road Dogg counts. Road Dogg only gets to 2 before Bradshaw   
picks X-Pac up by the hair and chucks him off of Crash. He   
then hauls Crash up by the neck and sets him rather rudely   
onto the empty chair.)  
  
Crash (dazed): "Th... thanks guys."  
  
Faarooq: "Shut up and deal, Dink the Clown"  
  
Fade out  
  
Text: "6:00 pm."  
"1 hour until King Of The Ring"  
  
Fade in  
  
(Crash, Faarooq, and Bradshaw are engrossed in a tense game   
of poker. Crash has a noticeably large pile of poker chips   
at his end of the table. With a wide smile, Crash reveals   
his hand...)  
  
Crash: "Four aces! Whaddaya know? Ha ha!"  
  
Faarooq: "Damn!"  
  
(Bradshaw buries his face in his hands.)  
  
Crash: "Aww, c'mon! Don't be a sore loser!"  
  
(Without warning, Bradshaw hauls off and decks Crash,   
knocking him and his chair over. There is a dull thud as   
Crash's head hits the tile.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Oops."  
  
Faarooq: "Dammit, did you kill him? Aww, shit! And he was   
our best customer, too."  
  
(Bradshaw kneels over Crash's body and checks for a pulse.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Well, that's a relief. He's alive."  
  
Faarooq: "Good."  
  
(Bradshaw stares at the prone body of Crash for a minute)  
  
Bradshaw: "Should I?"  
  
Faarooq: "Should you what? Ah, damn! What do you think   
this is, 'Deliverance?'"  
  
Bradshaw: "Hell no. I ain't no Patterson. Should I go for   
the pin? The 24/7 thing is still going, and I'm curious   
about what it's like to be Hardcore champ."  
  
Faarooq: "Justin, he paid us to make sure he didn't lose   
the belt. Pinning him would defeat that purpose."  
  
Bradshaw: "Ah know, but we can just give it back to him..."  
  
Faarooq: "Fine, go ahead."  
  
Bradshaw: "Great. Now where's a ref..."  
  
(At that moment, Earl Hebner walks by)  
  
Bradshaw: "Hey, Earl! C'mere!"  
  
Earl: "Hey, guys. How's the poker game going?"  
  
Faarooq: "Bradshaw interrupted it by kicking Stuart   
Little's ass over there."  
  
Bradshaw: "Mind giving out a three count, Earl?"  
  
Earl: "What the hell, why not?"  
  
(Earl gets on his knees as Bradshaw covers Crash. Earl taps   
out a slow 1-2-3 on the tile.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Yes! I am a winner! Whoooo!"  
  
Earl: "Anything else you guys need?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Nope, that'll be all."  
  
(Earl walks away, while Bradshaw drapes the Hardcore belt   
over his shoulder. He stands proudly for a few minutes.)  
  
Faarooq: "So, how's it feel to be Hardcore champ?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Not any different than normal."  
  
Faarooq: "No difference?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Nope. I thought it'd feel a little more extreme   
than normal, but I still feel the same."  
  
(Silence as both ponder the situation)  
  
Bradshaw: "So now what?"  
  
Faarooq: "Now you have to defend that title."  
  
Bradshaw: "Anyway I can just get rid of it? How 'bout I   
pawn it at a shop?"  
  
Faarooq: "Sheeeeit, that thing ain't worth more than five   
bucks. I wouldn't pay a dime for that busted-ass belt."  
  
Bradshaw: "So what else can I do?"  
  
Faarooq: "Job it away."  
  
Bradshaw: "Job it away? To who?"  
  
(Faarooq points at the body of Crash Holly)  
  
Bradshaw: "I'm supposed to let Mini-Me pin me? Are you   
fuckin' nuts?"  
  
Faarooq: "It's either that or a hardcore evening gown match against Brisco and Patterson later on tonight."  
  
(Right then, Tim White walks past)  
  
Bradshaw: "Hey, Tim. Couldja come over here?"  
  
Tim: "Hello. What can I do you for?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Uh, I want you to count a pinfall."  
  
Tim: "On who?"  
  
Bradshaw (quietly): "Crash pinning me."  
  
Tim: What?  
  
Bradshaw: "Crash Holly pinning me!"  
  
Faarooq: *chuckles*  
  
Tim: "You're kidding, right?"  
  
(Bradshaw lays down and pulls Crash over him. Tim shrugs   
his shoulders and counts 1-2-3. Bradshaw rolls Crash off of   
him.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Thanks, Tim."  
  
Tim: "Anytime."  
  
(Tim walks away as Bradshaw sits down in his chair. There   
is a low *groan* as Crash pulls himself up to the table.)  
  
Crash: "Wha happened?"  
  
Faarooq: "Your stupid munchkin ass fell outta the chair."  
  
Bradshaw: "Yep."  
  
Crash: "Oh... Anything else?"  
  
(Faarooq and Bradshaw give each other knowing glances.)  
  
Fade out  
  
Text "6:30 pm"  
"30 minutes until King Of The Ring"  
  
Fade in  
Setting: DX DRESSING ROOM - EXTERIOR  
(Faarooq and Bradshaw have stopped with their game of poker.   
Crash Holly is sleeping in a corner, cradling his Hardcore   
Belt like a teddy bear. Faarooq has a book, and Bradshaw is   
slugging back a beer and reading a porno magazine)  
  
Bradshaw: "...Likes beer, poker, monster trucks, and   
cigars. Loves big sweaty Texans, especially those who are   
pro wrestlers... Hot damn! Hey Faarooq."  
  
Faarooq: "What?"  
  
Bradshaw: "What do you think of this one?"  
  
(Bradshaw turns the magazine on its side and pulls down   
another flap. Faarooq's eyes widen.)  
  
Faarooq: "DAMN!"  
  
Bradshaw: "It's a match made in heaven. Should I give her   
a call?"  
  
Faarooq: "Go for it. Hey, you know when they're showing   
our match from Tuesday?"  
  
Bradshaw: "Should be on in a few minutes."  
  
(Suddenly, the Dudley Boyz walk into frame, toting lead   
pipes. Bradshaw stands up to intercept)  
  
Bradshaw: "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you two think you're   
goin'?"  
  
Buh-Buh: "To see DX. We want to, um, reconsider this match   
thing and talk our differences over."  
  
Faarooq: "Uh-huh. So what's the lead pipes for?"  
  
Buh-Buh: "Um, for protection?"  
  
(D-Von takes the opportunity to smack Buh-Buh upside the   
head with his non-pipe-toting hand.)  
  
Buh-Buh: "Ow! What was that for, D-Von? I didn't tell   
them that we were gonna sneak in and beat up DX... oops."  
  
Bradshaw (to Faarooq): "Should we?"  
  
Faarooq: "It's on like neckbone, sucka! Let's kick their   
punk-asses!"  
  
(Cue the Pier-Four brawl as both parties tear into each   
other. Crash, hearing the noise, wakes up suddenly and   
tilts the chair back too far, tipping both over.)  
  
Rodney (Offscreen): "There he is!"  
  
Pete Gas (offscreen): "Get 'em!"  
  
(Crash starts getting up just as the Mean Street Posse runs   
into frame. Joey nails Crash with and right cross and goes   
for a cover. Pete Gas breaks it up, and covers, which in   
turn brings Rodney into the fray. Same thing, different   
Posse member. Crash gets up and runs away as the Posse   
starts to fight amongst each other. Slowly, the Posse   
realizes that Crash is no longer there, so they give chase.   
As the Dudleyz and aPa fight, The Rock slides into the   
frame, grabs a steel chair, and runs into the DX dressing   
room. Faarooq gets rammed into the wall as Bradshaw becomes   
the recipient of the Dudley Death Drop. Buh-Buh goes after   
Faarooq as D-Von administers last rites to Bradshaw.   
Faarooq hauls Buh-Buh up for a stiff-ass spinebuster. As   
Buh-Buh rolls on the ground, yelling in pain, The Rock walks   
out of the DX dressing room, steel chair noticeably dented.)  
  
Faarooq: (slowly realizing) "Ah, shit!"  
  
(D-Von runs to Buh-Buh and the both of them run from the   
scene. Bradshaw slowly gets up, shaking his head. Faarooq   
leans against the wall, snickering)  
  
Bradshaw: "What's so funny?"  
  
Faarooq: "Watching you get your ass kicked."  
  
Bradshaw: "Bite me."  
  
(Bradshaw stands up fully and looks at the damage. Then he   
notices the opened DX dressing room door.)  
  
Bradshaw: "Aw, crap."  
  
(Faarooq knocks on the opened door)  
  
Faarooq: "Hey, you guys okay in there?"  
  
(They respond with pained groaning. Triple H walks out,   
holding his head.)  
  
Bradshaw: "You okay?"  
  
HHH: "No, I'm not okay, you numbskull! I paid you to   
protect us, and you let the Rock in! What the hell is wrong   
with you two-uh?"  
  
Faarooq: "Hey, don't yell at us, punk! We got attacked by   
those Dudley retards!"  
  
HHH: "I DON'T GIVE A RATS ASS! You didn't do your job, so   
I'm not going to pay you."  
  
(Bradshaw and Faarooq glare at Triple H.)  
  
Bradshaw: "You... aren't going to pay us?"  
  
HHH: "After dealing with your incompetence? You bet yer   
ass I won't!"  
  
(No one reacts for a second, then)  
  
Faarooq: "Well I'll be DAMNED."  
  
(Both Acolytes rush Triple H and proceed to pound the shit   
out of him. Punches, kicks, headers into the wall, followed   
by Bradshaw's Lariat from Hell. Bradshaw then picks the   
prone Triple H up by the hair, drags him over to the card   
table and puts Triple H's head between his leg. Faarooq   
comes over to help, and the aPa put Triple H through the   
card table with the Assisted Powerbomb. Satisfied with   
their work, they both walk off screen as the feed...)  
  
Fades to black  
  
The End  
  
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^  
  
Faarooq, Bradshaw, Crash Holly, Triple H, X-Pac, Road Dogg,   
Stephanie McMahon, Gerald Brisco and Pat Patterson are   
copyright Titan Sports and their respective owners. No harm   
was intended by this fictional account of a fictional sport.   
This story is copyright Mr. Pink Productions.  
  
God, that copyright bullshit is a pain in the ass, ain't it?   
Ask the Net.cop Scott Keith for more details on how   
copyrights suck.  
  
So, how'd y'all like it? Tell me! E-mail me at   
mrpink67@hotmail.com and tell me what you think. Positive   
feedback keeps the stories coming.  
  
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^  
  
Stinger:  
  
Text: "6:55 pm"  
"5 minutes until King Of The Ring"  
  
Setting: DX DRESSING ROOM - EXTERIOR  
(Crash Holly runs back onscreen, belt in tow. He looks   
around nervously)  
  
Crash: "Guys? Where'd you go?"  
  
(Suddenly, Patterson rushes into the frame and clocks Crash   
with a steel chair. He covers the fallen Crash while Mike   
Chioda runs in and taps out a three-count.)  
  
Patterson: "YES! I WIN! THE MATCH IS STILL GOING!"  
  
Fade out  



End file.
